


A Quiet Storm

by DoreyS (DoreyG)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, One Night Stands, Pre-Canon, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22512925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyS
Summary: "So you're the one they've matched me to this time?" The Zabrak asks, looking at him with a hunger in his eyes that suggests he feels much the same way. "Hm, far better than the usual fare."
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Comments: 7
Kudos: 306
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	A Quiet Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamiflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiflame/gifts).



He's got a bad feeling about this.

If he were sensible he wouldn't even be here in the first place. This is _dumb_. He's breaking his word to Qui-Gon, he's breaking the Jedi code, and for what? A quick and unsatisfying tumble, undoubtedly, and years of shame afterwards.

He should turn on his heel and march right back to the Jedi temple. He should confess his momentary temptations to Qui-Gon, and receive sensible but firm advice to turn him away from this path. He should try his best to forget this whole thing, and return to blissful normality once again.

...But he's eighteen. And awkward and desperate and horny, and well aware that he's not strong enough to ignore any of those things. So instead of doing the sensible thing, instead of turning on his heel and removing himself swiftly from the situation, he pays his coin to the owner and shuffles awkwardly into the appointed room.

Somebody is already sitting on the bed, which helps with his burgeoning nerves a little. A Zabrak, with red skin and black tattoos and incredibly intense eyes. Not particularly tall, but heavily muscled and intriguingly imposing despite that. Not particularly kind looking, but with a sense of presence that still sends his mouth dry.

"So you're the one they've matched me to this time?" The Zabrak asks, looking at him with a hunger in his eyes that suggests he feels much the same way. "Hm, far better than the usual fare."

"Yes," he says slightly breathlessly, and barely stops himself from holding out his hand in greeting like some kind of idiot. "Uh, to the being the one you were matched with. I can't speak, myself, as to how I compare to the usual. I'm-"

The Zabrak makes a dismissive noise, and rises from the bed in one somehow elegant movement. He notes, absently, that they're about the same height. "We don't use our names here."

He blinks, admits to himself that that makes sense even as he gives a mock scowl. "I was going to use a fake name, for the record. I had one prepared and everything."

"Did you now? " The Zabrak drawls, looking appropriately amused. "What a terrible waste. But we don't even use fake names here. Too much effort, distracting from the overall goal."

He transitions his mock scowl into a pout, taking a certain amount of pleasure in trying to charm this strange - undeniably attractive - man. "But how will I know what to, ah…?"

"Moan? " the Zabrak smirks, looking even more amused than before. "Don't worry, you seem like a smart enough man. I'm sure you'll be able to come up with something. And if all else fails, you can always bite the pillow. "

He draws in a deep breath, slightly stunned by the filthy suggestion offered so casually… And then can't hold back a grin, taking a slow and hopefully not too desperate looking step towards the Zabrak. "Seems like you're going to be rather brutal with me."

"Oh." The Zabrak gives an amused snort in response, takes a far more confident step towards him, much like a predator stalking its prey. "You _hardly_ seem like you mind."

He takes in a deep breath, entirely prepared to fling back a witty retort, and the Zabrak immediately moves to take advantage. The man crosses the room in a few quick strides, and drags him brusquely into his arms in the next moment.

It's overwhelming at first. He's never been kissed before, not even once, and he finds it hard to know what to do with the unleashed passion suddenly pressed against him. His arms hang uselessly by his sides, his lips remain awkwardly still and he only barely manages to resist the urge to wince away from the sensation of the Zabrak's tongue in his mouth.

But then… it's like going from zero to sixty, like stepping off a ship at the edge of the atmosphere and surrendering to the fall. Lust kicks in his gut, and he finds himself reacting on instinct. He brings his hands up to clench in the Zabrak's dark clothes, finds himself arching up into the demanding press of the Zabrak's lips, gives in to the spirit of fascination and eagerly twines their tongues together.

The Zabrak makes a rumbling noise of approval, one he feels more than hears, and moves his hands down from where they were tightly gripping his back to grope his ass instead. He stiffens in surprise, makes a sound much akin to a squeak into the Zabrak's mouth, but soon decides that it's perfectly pleasant. There are worse things, than having an attractive man's hands all over your body.

The Zabrak gropes him for a moment more, almost thoughtfully as if testing his limits, and then uses his grip to lift him _up_. He lets out another squeak of surprise, but decides to roll with the punches far more quickly this time. He wraps his legs eagerly around the Zabrak's waist. Their position is incredibly awkward for a moment, but then he figures out that he can rub his cock right up against the Zabrak's impressively muscled stomach and surrenders gleef to the inevitable yet again.

He provokes another rumbling noise of approval, and is lifted a little higher for his daring. He rubs even harder against that muscled stomach, chasing the spark of pleasure eagerly, and is so distracted that he actually tenses with surprise as the Zabrak spins around and takes the few quick steps over to the bed.

He’s thrown back onto the covers seemingly within an instant, bouncing slightly as he comes to a rest. He blinks up at the Zabrak a touch dazedly, receives a lazy smile in response as the man almost casually drops his hands to the fastenings of his black robe.

“You really weren’t joking about the brutality,” he manages, as the first layer comes off and leaves the Zabrak standing in a sleeveless vest before him.

“You still like it,” the Zabrak informs him, tugging the vest over his head and tossing it casually on top of the robe. The man is just as muscled as he presumed, honed in the most beautiful and arousing of ways. “And might want to join in, if you actually want to do this.”

He swallows nervously… But still eagerly. Because, really, he made his decision the moment he walked into the room and saw the Zabrak lounging on the bed. He immediately fumbles for the ties of his own robe, deals with them far less elegantly than the man before him but still manages to fumble them eagerly open and get the process started.

The Zabrak continues to strip efficiently as he begins to fumble, at a speed that is both terrifying and deeply gratifying. He slips out of his boots easily, somehow managing to make what should be a fundamentally awkward movement look smooth and natural. He strips off his trousers efficiently, revealing long legs. And yanks off his underclothes a second after, ruthlessly removing all obstacles until he’s naked before him.

And what a sight that nudity is. The Zabrak is tattooed all over, sharp slashes of black against red skin. His muscles look, if possible, even more impressive than they felt - an enviable six pack tapering into a flat stomach that makes his mouth water. His cock is fully hard between his legs, long and thick and glistening slightly in the dim light in a way that makes him want to spread his legs even wider and beg for it. The man is as close to perfect as he’s ever seen.

...The man is also covered in scars, a sickening fact that he notices at the exact same time as everything else. Lightly raised scratches barely visible on his arms, deep lines criss-crossing his chest, shiny patches that look like burns on his thighs, what looks like a _chunk_ missing from his hip. The Zabrak’s body is a weapon, yes, but it hardly seems to be a weapon that’s been treated kindly.

“Um…” He swallows, frozen in the act of tugging at his clothing - he’s just tugged off his own vest, and was considering his boots before the Zabrak revealed himself - and shifts awkwardly as the man crawls up onto the bed. “Are you alright?”

The Zabrak blinks at him, pauses in a slightly uncomfortable looking crouch just over his thighs. “What?”

“It’s just, uh, you don’t look entirely well.” He winces at the sound of his voice, waves his hand awkwardly at the Zabrak’s ravaged body to try and convey some sort of coherent point. “If you’re not here willingly… I mean, that is to say, if you need any sort of help-”

“Strange little creature, aren’t you?” The Zabrak says, staring down at him with an unreadable expression on his admittedly rather grim face. “I’m fine. And absolutely willing to be here with a delightful boy like you, if you want the flattery. The only thing I need for you is to get on with it.”

He hesitates for another second, trying to decide if he should continue pushing or let his basic instincts take the day, and the Zabrak makes a guttural noise and makes his decision for him. The man sits back and yanks off his boots in two brisk tugs, follows up by almost ripping off his trousers and practically shredding his underclothes. He’s naked on the bed in seconds, frozen and confused and so turned on that it’s actually starting to hurt.

The Zabrak gives him a brusque look over when he’s finished, and makes an approving noise that probably shouldn’t go straight to his cock but that definitely does. It’s the kind of look that could burn him up if he isn't careful, the kind of look that takes and takes until there’s nothing left.

He swallows, still hesitant, and finally makes his decision. He spreads his legs, sends the Zabrak a challenging look. A ‘come on’ that ignores the man's scars, and dares him to do his worst.

The Zabrak reacts to the challenge eagerly, as he knew he would. The man slides up the bed, covers him with his body and presses him down into the mattress with an arrogance that is utterly arousing. They’re suddenly pressed together intimately, from chest down to cock, and he can’t help an involuntary whimper at the sheer sensation of it.

The Zabrak leans in to kiss him briefly, a hard press of teeth and tongue, and then leans back to fix him with that still intense gaze. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” he says vaguely, all of his focus on the rock hard pulse of his cock pressed up against the Zabrak’s. “Anything.”

“Me to fuck you?” The Zabrak asks, his voice little more than a growl, and leans in to graze sharp teeth over the vulnerable arch of his throat. “Go on, let me _fuck_ you.”

It’s pointless to pretend that he’s capable of any sensible thought, at this point. He hears the word ‘fuck’, growled in the Zabrak’s hoarse voice, and something within him whites out. He clutches at the Zabrak’s shoulders to urge him on, nods eagerly and accepts his fate.

The Zabrak sits up, and turns smoothly to the side table. In the top drawer there’s a small pot of oil, obviously provided for exactly this kind of situation. The Zabrak wastes no time in popping the lid of it, coating his fingers thoroughly in the thick liquid as if he’s of a mind to test just how much he can take.

He spreads his legs, entirely approving of that kind of sentiment, and sighs as the Zabrak slides eagerly between them. The first finger slides in quickly, an unpleasant burn that has him biting his lip and narrowly resisting the urge to shift away. The Zabrak, to his surprise, waits patiently for a second as if letting him get used to it. Even lays a careless kiss on the head of his still hard cock, obviously seeking to distract him.

The second finger is even worse than the first, an uncomfortable stretch that has him letting out an involuntary whimper. The unpleasant pressure lasts for only a moment, though, and then… The Zabrak rotates his fingers carefully, obviously searching for something, and he arches up off the bed as an intense surge of pleasure moves through him. He almost comes from that alone, just the feeling of the Zabrak’s fingers inside him and pressing steadily _up_.

He's never experienced pleasure like that before, never thought to experience it even in his wildest dreams. It feels dangerous and wonderful and terrifying and astonishing all at once. It feels like the Force does, a giddy flow pounding through his veins and removing all his limits.

“Ready?” The Zabrak half asks, half-states as he comes back down from his high. Still staring up at him with those almost frenzied eyes.

He’s never wanted to be eaten alive before, but he’s starting to understand the appeal. He thinks about it for roughly half a second, that feeling like the Force still alive and buzzing within him, and then gives a lazy smile and an eager nod. “Why not?”

The Zabrak gives him an approving look, and slides back up the bed at a rather flattering speed. The man braces for a moment, kissing softly at his neck and seemingly making sure that he doesn’t take fright and roll away, and then passes a quick hand over his own cock and slowly lines up to press in.

It doesn’t quite hurt, but also it isn’t quite as fun as he expected. It’s a nagging ache, an all consuming sense of pressure that makes him bite his lip with the force of it. It’s incredible, not in an entirely good way. It pushes the air out of him, leaves him weak and helpless and capable only of clutching at the Zabrak’s scarred back.

The Zabrak goes carefully at first, slowly enough that it’s almost like he’s guessed that this is his first time. The man moves almost tenderly, giving him time to get used to the push. He keeps one hand soothingly on his flank, and presses soft kisses against his neck in a continued mission to distract him as he moves, further and further until slowly bottoming out within him.

A low whine claws its way out of his throat, as he takes in the intimacy of their position. The Zabrak is hard on top of him, hard inside him. He’s pinned helplessly to the mattress, with his legs spread and his ass clenching around the hard cock inside him. He’s never been so close to another being - and in this moment, despite it all, he’s glad for that. There’s something undeniably wonderful, about letting this nameless stranger - so gentle and so rough at the exact same time - be his first.

He feels the Zabrak take in a deep breath, feels it all through their joined bodies. And then the man takes ahold of his hips, hard enough that he can feel it but soft enough that he won’t have to worry about a single bruise, and slowly starts to thrust.

The Zabrak starts off slowly, still well aware of his comfort. His first thrust is tentative, obviously wary of any sign of protest, but is quickly followed up by a more confident second one. Before long the man's hips are moving steadily, a slow roll seemingly designed to drive him absolutely insane in the best possible way.

He feels pleasure start to bubble up within him again, boiling higher and higher with every thrust that the Zabrak makes. He slowly starts to relax underneath the man, starts to enjoy their coupling instead of simply bracing against it. He starts to move his hips tentatively in time with the Zabrak’s thrusts, allows soft sounds to spill out of his mouth, eventually - after some consideration - even lifts his legs and wraps them around the Zabrak’s hips.

They start to find a rhythm together, slow and steady. The Zabrak presses down into him, seemingly redefining his limits with every thrust, and he rolls encouragingly up against the Zabrak in turn. It’s a bit like a lightsaber duel, a graceful battle with the both of them in sync.

The Zabrak starts to go faster, obviously encouraged by his willingness. His thrusts grow harder and deeper, now fucking him properly instead of treating him like some delicate object. His hands tighten at his hips, grip there just tightly enough that it hovers on the edge between pain and pleasure. Soft growls start to spill from his lips, like the animal within is finally being unleashed.

He responds eagerly, a whole new passion rising up within him. He digs his nails into the Zabrak’s muscular shoulders, scratching so hard that it’s a miracle he doesn’t draw blood. He tightens his legs around the Zabrak’s hips, attempting to pull him in even deeper. He allows his moans full freedom, fills the air with a symphony of noise that can’t fail to convey his enthusiasm for this entire encounter.

The bed is starting to protest underneath them now, emitting a slightly worrying sounding creak with every roll of their hips. The Zabrak doesn’t seem to notice, intent as he is on driving as deep as possible into his body. He hardly has it in him to care either, not with the feeling of the Zabrak’s cock splitting him open.

The Zabrak is going fast now, seemingly on the edge of losing all control. Their skin slaps together on every thrust, an obscene and wonderful sound that fills the room. The sharp smell of sweat lingers between them, slicking their skins and turning every motion into a glorious slide. Growls are spilling out of the Zabrak’s mouth ceaselessly, a downright _bestial_ noise, and the man’s grip on his hips has gone over the line to full on painful.

And he doesn’t care. Well, that’s a lie: he cares a lot, but only in the sense that he desperately wishes for it to keep happening. He tries his best to match the speed of the Zabrak’s thrusts, lifting his hips eagerly into every brutal roll. He presses his mouth to the side of the Zabrak’s neck, scrapes his teeth until he can taste not only sweat but the coppery sting of blood. He matches the Zabrak noise for noise, meeting his growls with groans and his snarls with moans and his brutal passion with utter desperation.

The world narrows to just the two of them, a tight and glorious focus. There’s nothing but the Zabrak moving above him, his face caught in a furiously lustful grimace. Nothing but the desperate trembling in his stomach, making his movements uncoordinated and desperate. Nothing but _them_ , rough and desperate and insane and _wonderful_ all at once.

And…

The Zabrak, to his surprise, is the first one to come. The man bellows, loud enough that he winces even through his dazed pleasure, and goes completely stiff for a long moment. He feels dampness within him, a sudden fullness that sends him gasping, and then the Zabrak is collapsing on top of him with a heavy groan.

Luckily he’s only a few seconds behind. The weight of the Zabrak, pressing him heavily down into the almost certainly broken bed, is enough to send him shuddering over the edge. He comes with a loud whine, his hips jerking helplessly as he coats the Zabrak’s stomach in strings of sticky white.

They sprawl together in the aftermath, both of them panting and weak. The Zabrak mouths absently at his neck, grazing his teeth in a lazy caress. He draws in delirious gasps of air, spreads his fingers posessively over the Zabrak’s shoulders and savours the weight of him. They rest together, surely more intimately bound than any two beings have ever been before.

“...So,” he says, when he can finally speak again. There’s a bubble of giddy happiness within him, a reckless surge that he can’t quite bring himself to quash. “That was nice.”

“‘Nice’,” the Zabrak repeats in a rough voice, and lifts his head to smirk down at him. “Yes, I suppose it was perfectly pleasant. Now, how long before you can go again?”


End file.
